Adjustment
by Wicked R
Summary: Brave New World. Sylar tries to prove everyone he'd changed by giving himself up to Noah to do with as he pleases, who takes him back to his cell. Claire has other ideas for punishment.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Adjustment

Disclaimers: I don't own any supernatural powers or anything else to do with Heroes. If I had, the series would continue, no matter what.  
Genre: angst, supernatural, hints of hurt/comfort and romance.

Rating: PG-15 for violence.

Summary/Set: Brave New World. Sylar tries to prove everyone he'd changed by giving himself up to Noah to do with as he pleases, who takes him back to his cell. Claire has other ideas for punishment.

Pairing: mild/budding Sylaire.

Peter felt ambivalent about going to the company's gleaming containment facility on his weekly visit to Sylar. On the one hand it felt pleasant and comfortable to be able to see and talk to the man he got so used to and grown to care for during their years together alone behind the wall, but it also made him uneasy for reminding him of all that went on with evolved human prisoners under her mother and Nathan's control. Not to mention he'd never been in agreement with what Sylar had decided to undergo.

The new persona that has emerged from the confines of Matt's mind prison in the form of the one once known as Gabriel Gray, did not want to hide. He had all intention to reconnect with everyone that could matter and do it in all the right ways society would've accepted, which meant paying for his deeds in the manner people could maybe find adequate. So he'd accepted willingly all the tasers and guns being pointed at him, without defending himself and let himself being drugged and put in irons and a straightjacket and being taken away to a secure facility with the aid of a new-fangled innovation, an evolved ability dampening device.

Peter did not argue much at the time. He was happy to be out of the limitations of a mind's wall and able to spend time with his lady friend. He also understood how keen Sylar was on proving the world he was different than what everybody thought of him. But he did worry for his friend. First of all, the cells were not much dissimilar to their previous confinement and he didn't like, or more like trust his mother pulling the strings either. Sylar had already changed to a pensive, introspective person whose remorse was enough to imitate hell in his own soul, he had a strong desire to be accepted and plans for the future. But nobody bar Peter believed that and the derailed ability collector felt he had no other choice than his current path. The young returned paramedic however was worried that solitude and people's doubts was the last thing his friend needed.

Their weekly conversations were in some ways a continuation of the talks and discussions they once had when they had nobody else for company for years, they ranged from personal issues and moral debates to trivial matters like books and pizza choices. Fundamentally though, they were so much more. Their relationship flourished ever since that deciding moment that led to the wall giving way and there was no way back. Some of it Peter would've not been able to explain to anyone, he felt it however. The Petrelli had been a caring person all his life, but there were few people he had this amount of regard for. There was Emma and his family, and that was about it.

The way he felt about Sylar confused him and he'd spent a good deal thinking about it. He knew from experience that although the ex watchmaker was his own unique self, all of Nathan's essence was still existent within him. Peter could not deny, that spark of another life buried within him had made Sylar a whole lot more important in his eyes, even if he did not like the taller man reminding him of that by sometimes quoting one of Nathan's thoughts, reiterating an event. It maybe was connected to his older brother's memory to a certain extent, but Peter was quite sure he cared about Sylar for other reasons too, like the two of them being in some ways alike and prospectively sharing a future where they would not only need to learn to coexist, but be potentially able to alter the future according to a common plan and goal.

Apart from the usual identity checks and signatures required to enter the building, Peter was not usually stopped by anyone, given who he was and how routinely he had been visiting Sylar the same time and same day week by week. This time however, a man in a blue coat was waiting for him on the corridor, introduced himself as penal complex physician on duty and let him know in a kind, but monotone manner that the detainee he was about to see might not cooperate the same way as normal today.

Peter was cursing to himself, he was afraid this time will come, that the solitude and the treatment Sylar received in there will one day get to him. So he was quite surprised when the specialist expressed his concerns that there might be something physically amiss with their feared captive. The man showed Peter the medical files and it appeared that just about every reading and marker was beyond normal parameters and personnel could make no sense of the phenomenon as no ordinary human being would've been alive under the same circumstances. The paramedic keenly agreed on trying to shed light on the situation, regardless of his antagonism against the methods of those working for the company. This was more important than personal preferences.

The ability mimic entered his friend's spacious cell warily. Everything was looking pretty much the same as other times and Sylar was lying on his bed, staring at a page in one of the science magazines Peter made sure brought every time, in a manner not unlike some of the previous times he visited. "I hear you have trouble keeping food down?" His visitor strode up to the bed edgily. With Sylar's regenerating ability, was it psychological strain that ailed him, manifesting itself in bodily functions? Not waiting for his answer, Peter sat down on the edge of the only piece of furniture in the room, pulled the publication out the super powered evolved human's hands and held one of his wrists to take his pulse.

Sylar froze, following the magazine's journey with his eyes. It tumbled down the sheets and onto the cold, stone floors. Concentrating on it was a good way to be able to avoid Peter's gaze. The villain-turned-self-proclaimed-hero was feeling embarrassed when proven vulnerable. "Uhm," he acknowledged the question simply.

"What are your other symptoms?" Peter turned paramedic at a mere instant if it was needed.

"Who said I had other symptoms?" Sylar asked quickly, defensively, not at all happy that his perfect façade of invulnerability that he liked to put up in front of his captors, was in danger.

"Nobody," Peter assured him soothingly, "but they are a bit puzzled as to why you'd have too much bilirubin or have a nonexistent D4 cell count, or anything like that at all for that matter!"

"What are you talking about? Blood count?" He frowned, "I can't say I ever indulged in that particular matter of anatomical studies," he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"What I'm saying is that if you had these parameters and were an ordinary human, I'd take you in the ambulance and shortly straight to the intensive care unit, knowing you'd be in the morgue in no time not matter what. So what's up? Something surely is, even if your abilities are able to control and contain it somehow."

Sylar shrugged, "so? It's nothing new. I've been having stomach cramps for quite a while. I was quite surprised it didn't manifest outwardly so far when it has been there almost as long as I've been in this facility."

Peter looked at him thoughtfully, "a sore stomach? That's all you're feeling?" He enquired suspiciously.

Sylar pursed his lips discomfited, "well, the wording is a bit off for one. Being stabbed in the stomach and the knife twisted repeatedly in there every other minute is more like it."

The paramedic's eyes widened, looking at his friend with his gaze going up and down, assessing him once more, "severe abdominal pain?" He translated what he heard into something more medical sounding, "what else? Come on, Sylar, I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"Uhm," the ex killer looked in his direction sheepishly, but avoided eye contact, "a lot of digestive stuff, you know, reflux, queasiness, having to go a lot, bloating, you know the like."

"Anything else?"

Sylar shrugged, as if still reluctant to share, "feverish and shaking here and there, lightheaded sometimes."

Peter nodded solemnly and pulled his protégé's t shirt up to get him ready for the examination by palpation, "where do you feel the abdominal pain?" The prisoner however waved a hand over his entire midsection with a vague gesture that made his conversation partner reformulate the question, "where does it hurt the most?"

Sylar placed some gingerly fingers above his bellybutton, and the paramedic followed suit by careful and gentle examination, quickly thwarted by the guarding reflex of the abdominal muscles, to Peter's grimness and concern. His patient however, aware of the young Petrelli's unremitting attitude to protect him, waved him off dismissingly, "it comes and goes, you know. It had only been about one and a half hours since they gave me their wonder cocktail that's supposed to efface my powers," he rolled his eyes.

Peter paused for a moment. "Supposed to? Your powers are working?"

Sylar nodded, "to a considerable extent. No cell could hold me," he winced, remembering their time behind the wall, "an ordinary physical one I mean."

"But..but what about regeneration? It doesn't make much sense how you're in poor health then."

"Oh, leave it to the company to manufacture any drug that makes sense. They have no idea of the chemical interactions themselves."

"So you're saying that you are unmistakably aware of how they are poisoning you in here and you just let it happen? What are you doing in here?" Peter asked shaking his head.

The taller man closed his eyes for a brief moment and sighed. He was trying to do what was right here and certainly didn't need Peter pointing out his choice's drawbacks. It was hard enough coping with the discomfort, day in, day out.

"Gabriel?" Peter tried to get his attention once more, worried it was the pain that made him close his eyes.

"I'm not really all that into masochism you know that, but is there another way you could suggest me paying for what I have done, and in a manner that satisfies all the people?" He asked still lying on the bed, not wanting to admit to his visitor how hard it was for his abdominal muscles to allow him to straighten up.

Peter grunted, "being in here is like when you kept apologizing, annoying the heck out of me! It's the right thing, but it's all it is, passive. It doesn't change much."

"Thanks. I'm feeling all better now," Sylar rolled his eyes, but his voice did not become accusing as his friend criticised him. For no moment did he forget he himself was the one in the wrong for so long, it'd take a while to change that.

"That's not what I mean. You need to stop letting yourself tortured, physically and emotionally. You need to get out of here and actively seek to do good, to better the world. That way you can make up for everything you think you have to make up for."

Sylar looked up to him slowly, but took a while to answer even after that, "what if something happens and I can't control it? If I can't contain my abilities? That's why I'm better off here where the world is safe from me," he panted after the garble, breathing hard.

Peter shook his head, "I still think it's the wrong thing, Sylar."

"Of course you would. You let me out. When your mind let go of your fears regarding me, that was when the wall crumbled. Anybody else, it'd take them another five years in close confinement with me, to get convinced that I'm not the Sylar they knew anymore."

"I don't think other people are the problem. You'd have to get swayed. How is the amount of pain you're in a lot not making you want to get out of here?" Peter grumbled, seeing through Sylar's bravery show. He was frustrated, knowing how thickheaded Sylar could be at times. "How can I help? Is there any way I could convince you to free yourself from here or at least let me get you out?"

The prisoner's answer was immediate. It was apparent that he had thought about it before and it was a clear precondition of what he thought was right, "if Claire would agree with you, then I'd be sure I could face the people outside these walls."

"Well then, I'll just have to get her to agree with me," Peter nodded decisively. He'd always preferred when he could resort to definite action.

Tbc


	2. Sweat

Chapter 2: Sweat

Sylar did not have a good night. It wasn't unusual at all, it was only that it had been a particularly bad night. It felt like the drugs were killing him and perhaps they were. He woke on the floor, feeling cold and stiff and in a lot of pain, very alike to when he had been killed before. Unfortunately not even his revival could get rid of the poison in his system and he found himself having to dart to kneel in front of the toilet bowl again and not able to concentrate on the opening door.

Claire had taken approximately two seconds to get convinced to go see Sylar with Peter. Not because she would've wanted to be of assistance, but because she had always had her own particular plans with Sylar. For him to be a detainee of the company was one thing, a good thing perhaps, except that it wasn't precisely what she had in mind for him as punishment. She felt a certain right over Sylar. The blonde considered herself her boogeyman's main victim, the one who's life he'd destroyed the most.

She marched into the company cell quite the thing, she was not afraid of facing him, in fact she was looking forward to being able to dump on him every verbal reproach she could think of and some more, all without having to worry about him getting annoyed and even the score. Therefore the young woman was not happy when her outburst was stalled. The sight of a sick Sylar befuddled her a little, but that wasn't what stopped her. It was Peter's sudden change of facial expression from encouraged to worried as he rushed to squat by his friend to assess his condition and lend a hand. The way her uncle was fussing over the not-to-be-believed former killer was a bit baffling. She watched with raised eyebrows as the paramedic supported Sylar's weight, helping him to the bed and continued to do all sorts of checks on him when he was lying down, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

The killer had not even noticed her presence and that just wouldn't do! She stomped a foot and stepped forward a couple of steps, "show's over, Sylar. Peter might buy your excellent acting, but I'm not!" She shook her head and frowned, "I must admit, looking pathetic does not look favourable on you. No wonder you were trying so hard to avoid it beforehand."

Peter glanced at her reproachfully and groaned, then got distracted from answering her back by the prisoner leaning up on an elbow and looking for the source of the voice disoriented. Disturbed by the fact Claire had seen him so vulnerable at this precise moment, he struggled to sit, needing Peter's readily offered arm to straighten up. "You didn't exactly look right through my acting abilities all the time, now, did you?" He countered, despite himself. Taking Claire on had always been fun and intellectually challenging. So much for blondes.

"Do you remember when I said I'm going to kill you? This is my perfect opportunity."

"Claire." Peter said gravely, straightening up. He could not believe his niece was going along with the plan to talk to Sylar, for it to come down to this. He instinctively turned away from the prisoner, taking on a defensive pose.

It seemed surreal to Claire for moment. Wasn't that supposed to be the other way round? But the fact that Peter was shielding the supposedly sick man from her, also made her think. She'd usually trust her hero's judgement without a second thought, so did that really mean that the evil one was, well, maybe not so evil now?

But she only pondered this for the fraction of a second, "relax Eagle Scout, it's just that I have promised him a good spanking and I intend to keep at least that part of my word."

"Oh, spanking, I'm up for that," Sylar raised his head with an impish glint in his eyes. The double meaning was evident, and yet he meant it in actual fact as well. He was quite sure that Claire's spanking would not be as torturesome than what he had to go through in there.

"Not so fast," Claire shot him a scrutinizing look, "you like to sweet talk. So talk. Tell me why I should let you out of here. And most of all, enlighten me why you're still here if you'd be otherwise able to blow the walls off this building and take off?"

"I could go into a hundred details, explanations and excuses, but it all comes down to the same thing," he looked up at her sheepishly, still sitting on the bed. He had practiced honestly and openness with Peter and Emma for a long time, but he felt quite a lot more self-conscious in front of Claire. "What I did before, trying to be in control, trying to be respected and appreciated, it doesn't work."

"Holy sh…is that what you were trying to do? Trying to be respected?" Claire scoffed and sniggered, finding his disclosure quite amusing. "What happened with feast and revenge and fun and all the other negatives you like to indulge in?"

"As I said, they don't give half as much satisfaction than being a hero."

"You never knew the meaning of the word hero. Not even when it, or more like he, nipped you in the butt."

"I'm trying to be different. We all change. You've changed too, haven't you? Circumstances change. I think I can control them, the powers, the temptation. I can not let them overwhelm my life, because it's too important. Who'd give me another chance?"

"You'd say with an open heart, that he's not dangerous?" Claire raised her eyebrows, turning to Peter.

"Abilities are dangerous. They can turn your life upside down, change who you are, make you do things you would never have done otherwise. And then you sober up and consciously try to find your way back and yourself. I think I have pretty much had the chance to get to know the real Sylar, but you haven't yet. Aren't you a tad bit curious to find out where this leads?"

"To the morgue. And since I've already been there a few times, I don't really wish to repeat the experience. You don't want people to get hurt either, Peter! It's hard to believe you're suggesting to let the world's most dangerous serial killer loose!"

"I've already let him loose once from behind Matt's mental wall, as I have explained, remember? Trust begins with a leap all right. My leap simply happened in my mind somehow despite my predispositions, I'll give you that, it wasn't a conscious decision. From one moment to the next, there came a time when I just knew he was telling the truth about everything and most importantly, that he would not let me down."

"Pretty risky if you're wrong," Claire rolled her eyes.

"Not gonna let him out of my sight. He's going to be with me 24/7. Not as if that's much different from what we've been used to while stuck in his brain."

"Yeah? And how's that gonna be enough? Merely your being there will keep him from escaping and killing people?"

"And merely a few walls and drugs do? Sylar has evaded before and he does not need no trickery to do so."

"No, but he has a special preference for playing games with me."

"That I do," Sylar agreed on a deep voice.

"Well, let's play then," Claire returned sharply. "I'm the one who doesn't need sleep, I'm the one who can not be hurt. I'm the one who can check what he is doing every second of the day. He's coming with me, at least for a few days till I can see for myself what I can make of him."

Tbc


	3. Proceedings

Chapter 3: Proceedings

The next couple of days were action packed. Not sleeping was the least of their tiresome activities. Claire had been demanding to say the least. Sylar had to do what she had decided, that was a prerequisite. They have spent the time turning things into gold using his alchemical ability and flying around the world, having a go at redistributing wealth by giving the golden items away to the poor in all four corners of the globe. He had found it a little amusing when the blonde asked him to use his imprinting power to produce school books for children in third world countries as it would've been easier just to give them money, but they were also trying to remain incognito while leaving presents for people, so it kinda made sense.

Soon though, television news stations of several countries were running reports on generous anonymous donations, so the two of them had to resort to other methods of helping, or him paying for his sins, as Claire put it. Next, they were providing and storing electricity for whole villages for future decades using Sylar's electric manipulation, but that also had to come to an end soon, not only because of the danger of being detected, but also because the abilities collector was getting exhausted and missed aim in flight due to fatigue, bumping Claire into pylons or dropping her. Honest, by accident.

Then, after a close encounter with a Ukrainian news crew where Sylar had to use sound manipulation and shape shifting to mislead the reporters and disintegration to get rid of the evidence, the young woman accepted to be in charge of him decided that it'd be best if they hid out for a while at the killer's old Queens apartment as opposed to hers as her face was known to the whole world given her impractical and impulse jumping off wheels episode. Perhaps it was better resorting to helping out on a smaller scale, much similar to what Peter had been doing, smoothing things out and facilitating better outcomes at accidents, crimes, disaster areas and remote war zones.

Very tired from pulling another all nighter searching for mia people in the Amazonian rainforest, Sylar flew back into the apartment before the morning rush and while it was still dark with the winter approaching, a time where his flight in the skyline could be overlooked. After squeezing himself through the narrow kitchen window and pulling the blinds nigh on tight closed, he took a small, momentary glance into his living area on his way to his bed, then, head hung in lassitude, he ignored the girl sitting lying back on his small, usually fallow and useless old arm chair.

If he hadn't been so very dead beat, he would've been bothered by two phenomena relating to the short blonde, one more captivating than the other. First that she had used some volumes from his most cherished bookcase to utilize as footstool for her mud covered trainers she acquired on their previous mission when they took part in a rescue mission in India. The specifics to her posture did not register with him though and thus he missed the fact that Claire got rid of her dirty clothes, showered and now only had a bathrobe on and her trainers. And with her feet lifted, from the kitchen angle, her intimate parts were just about visible through the gap of her untied robe.

However, Sylar was rubbing his eyes with his fingers and missed the view. He headed straight for the bed, fell down on it in a sort of a half summersault dropping and closed his eyes. Claire switched from a news channel to music and looked at him, herself on turn quite ignorant of his untidy appearance, and ashen and tired face, "a cruise ship is sinking in the Caribbean," she said off handedly, but expecting a reaction.

The man too tall for his own bed did not move though, he didn't even flinch or gave any indication he had heard her. If it wasn't only a moment ago he had entered, Claire would've sworn he was asleep given his expressionless features and rhythmically and deeply moving chest. The young woman bit her lip in confusion and walked towards the bed in the studiolike apartment. "I thought you could fly close and hold it up telekinetically till the rescue crews arrive," she said more loudly and lifted a leg to kick his to get a response.

His reaction was slow, but the sluggish movement at least stopped her from resorting to more physical nudging. It was as if a tremor she couldn't quite place the reason for, went though him when disturbed, but then he opened his eyes a little and tilted his head in her direction expectantly, "hum?"

"Caribbean. Sinking ship. Telekinesis," she spellt it out for him, her eyes locked into his intensely, making his weary, hazy awareness thrum with apprehension. Claire in some respects was the worst form of penal sentence he could get, she never stopped demanding, and most importantly, she did not show any signs of satisfaction, forgiveness or mercy. His arm lifted a little off the bed as if pulled on a string by his index finger, an automatic reaction to being pissed off by someone. But he stopped himself before she could notice the movement. Reminding his judge of the horrific monster he could be, was not the best course of action. He did not get up though to get on with what was expected of him, he wanted to atone, not be ordered around.

While Claire missed the hand twitch, she did not fail to see the darkness filling his eyes, so she took what she perceived as the perfect opportunity to knock him off kilter and discomfit him. "The wallpaper in the closet had come lose, so I ripped it off. And since I saw something attention-grabbing there, I ripped the rest of it off as well in there. I hope you don't mind," she said off handedly, conversationally, as if everything would've been all right and friendly between them.

Point was scored as Sylar froze and became even more pale, only it was hardly noticeable given the lighting and his previous, similarly colourless face. He had put up some old wallpaper he had stored in one of the cupboards in reserve when he moved back into the apartment, not wanting to remind himself of that gloomy period of his life after his first kills when he had his initial attempts at stopping himself. The messages he had covered the walls with, were in his own and his victims' blood, spelling, forgive me for I have sinned, over and over again, in every size and shape. While what Claire had discovered was proof that giving into his ability's violent nature did not come without serious inner struggles, Sylar was not happy about allowing someone into something so private. So what did she want with mentioning it? Was it purely for taunting's sake? He nodded uncertainly and closed the deep dark pools of his soul for a moment, avoiding her probing gaze. "I'm very tired," he tried to steer clear of the subject altogether. "What's the rate that ship's sinkin at? Any chance for a power nap?"

It was however Claire's turn to ignore his last sentence. The passengers were right enough safe for the time being and his reasons behind the gory self confessions on his walls were way more interesting. "Even if you were remorseful, it does not change what you have done, who you had become and what I think of you," she spat. She had been intending to say something else entirely, but somehow when he was around, she just couldn't help herself. If he'd decided to turn oh so noble that she could not touch him physically, something inside her always propelled her to hurt him.

"And no matter what I do now and in the future, I can never make up for the past? Is that it? The way you see it?" He suddenly became more alert, catnap forgotten in frustration. "That you will never give me a chance?"

"What do you call this then? Us living in the same space, fighting for common causes and most of all, me not killing you on the spot?"

"Then I'll just have to do this over and over again until it sticks with you," the self declared reformed killer avowed determinedly. Disregarding his building headache and his droopy eyelids, he flew out the way he came and took off towards the Caribbean.

Tbc


	4. Swagger

Chapter 4: Swagger

The knock on his door was forceful and impatient, but even if it would've been a lot softer, Peter would have jumped out his bed just the same. The paramedic had become a light sleeper since he found out about the dangers of a world with abilities and any unusual noise heightened his senses. He could step to the door quickly as he slept in t shirts that could go as outdoor wear as well. The identity of his visitor did not surprise him either, in fact he had often wondered why Sylar or Claire did not turn up so far, either for guidance, or to argue with him.

"Is he not here?" The blonde stepped passed him, searching the apartment.

"Who? Sylar?" Peter shook his head a little perplexed, "I've seen no further news on the telly about miraculous escapes or anonymous contributions, so I was assuming you two had clashed over something, but no, he didn't show up here. What happened?"

"I dunno," Claire frowned a bit defeated, "I haven't seen him since yesterday morning. I told him he should go and telekinetically move some rubble to free people after the Turkey earthquake, and that was the last time I saw him. I'm sorry to have lost him, but don't know where he is, or what his plans are. My mistake. After the first few missions together, I trusted him enough to let him go alone. And now, he's doing his own thing."

"If Sylar wanted to get away from you, he could've done it any time, regardless of whether you were there or not. No offence."

Claire shot him a dissatisfied glance, no matter the truth of his words, "where is he then?"

"Rescue operations can be lengthy. He's probably still there. It might be that he ran into the international response teams and he's working with them and having to do so without any obvious disclosure of his abilities," Peter suggested, believing every word he said. He had no doubts that his ex behind wall companion had every intention to at least give the moral and good side a hearty try. "Look, I'm on a backshift tomorrow. I felt like keeping the power of flying from Sylar last time we met and could therefore get over the puddle to Europe in no time and check the disaster areas. Besides, they could use my help too."

The blond stood, ready for action, "take me with you."

"You should stay, he might be back as we speak."

"Yes, he might. In fact he might've just pissed off somewhere for a sleep," she admitted. She had not been blind to his needs, she was only ignoring them. "I feel like I have to come with you. We can cover more ground if it's the two of us."

"Having spent years trying to avoid him and even fleeing him, you have a sudden strange urge to go to him," Peter commented.

"Just checking. We allowed him out, he's our responsibility."

"Sylar does not take being ordered around very well, just for the record. I'd suggest you give him some breathing space. I'll talk to him and find out how this could work between you two, all the same wherever he's gone to."

"It's been a long time since I've needed any saving, if you haven't noticed. Even if it's about some tête-à-tête with a boogieman. Besides, I can offer two extra helping hands at the disaster area as well, some that don't need tetanus shots, nor protective gloves."

Peter sighed. He did not like the idea of Claire breathing down on his neck, and most importantly potentially messing up Sylar's chances to rehabilitate himself. He wished the whole matter could rest in his hands, he thought of himself as the Sylar's best option as he knew him the best. "I didn't think you liked to get dirty and being away from civilization. We'd be in remote mountainous areas," he tried to come up with any excuse to steer her away from her plans, "I'll bring him back as soon as I locate him."

"He might not even be there," the blonde sulked.

"One more reason for you to stay here."

"No, you don't understand," Claire shook her head with an air of despair that confused her uncle. "We need to find him."

"What, in case he kills someone?" He asked condescendingly.

"In case…in case…well, in case I've done something wrong."

"Even if Sylar would fall prey to his hunger for another power, which I doubt very much under the circumstances, you cannot blame yourself for letting him loose."

"It's not that," Claire looked behind him at a point on his bare walls. She found it hard to admit that another, in her opinion unfounded sentiment was flickering inside her, "I think I'm actually quite sure I made a mistake. You must know from experience that when it is my healing power you have, while you can revive and regenerate all the time, the time you take to do so sometimes varies, depending on how tired or worn out you are, did you notice that?" She waited a second for a glance at Peter's face and with his subtle, thoughtful nod, she continued, "I have purposefully, consistently and hard-heartedly exhausted him till he couldn't walk straight, heal without bleeding profusely, or flying fast without throwing up. At first, it was a defensive measure. I thought if I kept him fatigued, it would be easier to escape him if he turned on me, but then I realised it wasn't just becoming a habit, I was taking a great deal out of pleasure from seeing him suffer."

Peter was looking at her sincerely, "it happens to the best of us. Wanting revenge is natural. The measure of your humanity is how far you take it and put it into action. I've done a lot worse to him when we were stuck in brainland, I can assure you of that. I completely understand."

"No, you don't. When I said I exhausted him, it was to the brink of insanity. I kinda hoped he would snap and become the psycho we all know and then I would've not just been right, but would've had the excuse to kill him."

"It's hard to forgive for sure, but sometimes forgetting works the same. Staying angry hurts more on the long term," Peter tried to give her his insight, "it takes a conscious decision all right, and to realise that holding on to ire makes you not much better than the bad character we're trying to stand above."

Claire continued to shake her head, "that's perhaps a problem for another day. Right, I might seem like an idiot if this is not true, but by the state of him, when I strongly suggested to him to join in with the rescue efforts, I don't think he would've been able to make it to Turkey."

"And the thickheaded and single track minded he is, he could've tried, instead of doing the sensible thing and sleeping somewhere," Peter finished the thought.

"He seems to have this fix idea that I'd love him one day if he lives up to my expectations. No clue where he gets it from, but that's not the point just now."

"Let's hope he's made it," Peter looked at her with utmost seriousity, "finding him in the Atlantic Ocean would be worse than a needle in a haystack," he offered his hand to the young woman, "we'd better go."

"Let's hope he did get into difficulties, cause otherwise I'm going to look like an idiot and he'll enjoy every second of it!" Claire spewed, but took hold of Peter's waist and arm, indicating her readiness to fly.

Tbc


	5. CrashCrush

Chapter 5: Crush

Just as Peter predicted it, the search was fruitless as far as their main purpose was concerned. For days, they were both distracted by moving rubble and looking for signs of life till it has been officially declared that no one could possibly be found alive now. And because they had as little clue about Sylar's whereabouts as they had before, they retreated to Manhattan to reorganize. Wrong part of the world however, as it wasn't long before they set off for Asia once again.

Chennai, India, to be exact, where their short call upon Noah in Washington has directed them. Peter was intending to make use of an ability he had once possessed himself in his power accumulating days, one that he had taken from Molly Walker in what now felt like a very distant past and a different life.

Claire's father didn't disappoint, he was aware of the whereabouts of the teenager with the ability to locate anyone just by thinking about them. Getting to Chennai was not a problem either, however, managing to meet the little girl was.

Her legal guardian, Mrs. Suresh was wary of the strangers looking for her and claimed Molly was away at one of her friend's house. Peter then appealed to be able to talk to Mohinder, but they had to wait till the genetics professor finished all his evening classes at the University, only to be told by the artificially evolved human to leave his ward alone so she could live the normal life she wanted, having fun with people her own age. The teacher was quite intrigued by Sylar's alleged transformation story, but he remained adamant that the killer was the last person he wanted involved with Molly, not to mention the life he himself had promised Mira to leave behind.

"Is there something wrong?" Molly dropped her rucksack by the door, advancing into the room as if pulled by a string, well aware that two of the people from her returning Kirby Plaza nightmare were standing in her living room.

"You can go back to Sakina's house," Mohinder suggested, "have that sleepover you've always wanted."

Molly shook her head slowly, staring, her mind in a whirlwind, recounting everyone from her past as memories surfaced, and her power routinely locating them as well one by one. She never liked to think of Sylar, but the name passed through her synapses automatically along with the others'. "It's ok. I don't like to be reminded of what once was, but one thing for sure, I do not want to ever be in danger's way again either. If there's any way that can be avoided, I'm listening," she assured them with the wisdom of a teenager who had had a gruelling previous life.

"All we would like to know is where Sylar is," Claire started, gentle and cautious. Both hers and the girls' parents had been murdered by Sylar, and she knew very well how dubious she was herself of Sylar's transformation.

"He can't hurt anyone," Molly established with satisfied conviction, "he's lying at the bottom of some lagoon by the coast of Turkey!" Then her face became more serious, "300 meters is far enough under for him not be able to come back up, right? If he isn't moving or anything. He's not dead, but I can not feel him as clear as it would've been if he was alive."

Peter gave a sigh that was interpreted in different ways by all present, "I think that would be why we haven't heard of him of late."

"Thank you Molly," Claire gave her most alluring smile, "I'm quite sure you could feel safe from him if he's down there, but where is he exactly?" She tried to ask as innocently as possible, not to stir suspicion, "we should check in person, just to make sure."

"The place's called Olu Deniz, by the coast in the west of Turkey. There are blue lagoons under there, they get pretty deep quite close to the shore."

"Sounds perfect for a resting place," Claire declared mockingly, "as for myself, I would rest a lot easier if I knew for sure he could not bother us anymore. Would you mind if Peter took your ability for a little while so we can finalize this mission once and for all?"

Mohinder raised an eyebrow, "you following in daddy's footsteps working for the company?" He asked suspiciously.

"Oh, no, this is much more personal," Claire assured him.

Peter closed in on the two Indian residents, willing to go along with his niece's idea, but unsure of Mohinder's reaction. He did not offer his hand to Molly till the scientist nodded in both their directions, giving the girl the reassurance she needed she was doing the right thing, and Peter the okay to proceed.

Claire smiled and as soon as the exchange took place, she launched into action, "we're very grateful for your help Molly, now we can possibly all relax," she tugged on a blank faced Peter's sleeves and pulled him towards the door, "the same way as I know you all would want to as well. We should not disturb anymore. Once again, thanks!" She held onto him more tightly when the door closed behind them, "let's go quickly, before they'll be onto something! I think this place in Turkey sounds like the perfect holiday resort for us."

"Do you know anyone with telekinesis? Cause that'd be the most convenient ability to use for lifting him off the seabed and unfortunately I cannot take his," Peter frowned a little while looking around for directions. It would've been a lot easier from the air, but now he had lost flight.

Claire didn't think very long before coming up with an answer, "there was this sympathetic guy at the carnie, I think his name was Xavier, I'm not sure cause I didn't spend that much time there, he most definitely had telekinesis. I saw him use it helping a little girl get the prize at a games stall. Although I have never seen him move anything sizeable."

"Not a problem," Peter assured her, "telekinesis is telekinesis. The ability is the same, the people using it are different in aptitude and awareness. Even if he can't use its full advantages, I can. And I can assure you, telekinesis is some fun."

"Hah! Noticed," Claire retorted, somewhat amused, "so what? Back to New York then first?"

"Do you think we could find this Xavier there?" Peter winced, not looking forward to the price of the plane tickets.

"Affirmative. Although I didn't completely join them, I became friends with quite a lot of the people who worked at the carnival. They were still definitely there last week when I talked to Danielle, the one who understands what animals say. Without Samuel, they can't instantly relocate, but they are determined to stay together and organize transport for a tour in America."

"Good, that's where we will try," Peter sped up his steps, now that he was more sure of their plan. He hoped things went well and that he could allow himself a visit to Emma before they took off again, just to explain why he wasn't taking her out on a date just yet like he'd promised, but given that he could explain it away with the fact that he was actually trying to help her previous rescuer, he wasn't worried she'd not understand.

Tbc


	6. The Conversion

Chapter 6: Conversion

Peter kept checking his self made map nervously as he and Claire was walking down a high, steep mountainside so they could reach the lagoon the less customary and touristy way. The tall man felt uneasy and unconvinced, barely taking notice of the jaggy shrubs and baking hot rocks under his feet while trotting in his niece's footsteps, tripping over roots and slipping in the sand all over the place. He was more worried about his destination, than his current journey. As he had to get rid of Molly's locator ability for the sake of telekinesis, he now only had his drawing to go by. The athletic paramedic had previously drawn a detailed representation of the exact depth and location of where he had perceived Sylar's unmoving body to be, all in relation to every aspect of the landscape. But unless they were nearer, he didn't care much about what was around him.

Claire came to a sudden standstill in front of him. In his inattentiveness, Peter bumped into her, then realizing what he had done, he immediately held out a hand to stop her from falling. The drop before her wasn't too big and would've not caused much harm to even an ordinary human, but the young power mimic was quite sure the college student would've not appreciated being unceremoniously pushed into the turquoise, but deep water.

"What is it? If you need me to dive in and help you find him, you should've just said so," Claire jested, then stopped, rendered speechless by the view the natural reserve offered. Because building was strictly prohibited, the scenery was untouched just a few miles away from the popular beach resort.

Peter didn't really see any of it, he only concentrated at the changes of colour in the aquamarine lagoon, indicative of the depth of each bit, so that he could orientate and find the exact spot he was looking for, comparing to his detailed, elaborate and carefully drawn map. Claire peeked onto the drawing from the side and was trying to determine some point of reference as well.

A little bit irritated by the intrusion into his concentration despite his normally uncomplaining nature, Peter knelt down anxiously by the edge of the cliff. He was quite sure they were where they were supposed to be, but he needed some space to reassure himself of the certainty by going through all the mental, logical steps that brought him to the realization once again.

Suddenly a thick artesian well seemed to shoot up from the darkest blue of the lagoon, then another and another as Peter explored the bottom of the water. He was meticulous and slow, not wanting to miss out any part of the area he had previously marked for himself on paper, so it was possibly the eleventh try before his borrowed telekinesis lifted anything else up other than water. However, it turned out to be an octopus out of his element at first, and there were several turtles and different types of fish before they could see a black clothed body surfacing.

The power exchanger raised Sylar above the water, but kept him close to the surface while pulling him across the open plane of the azure, glinting surface, just to be sure the feat was not noticed by unwitting eyes. They both grabbed hold of the unconscious superhuman as it was raised onto the large rock they stood on and then disappeared with him in the bushes.

For a moment, they both looked down at the body motionless, then, half in wonder, half assessing the damage. Sylar didn't seem to be much differentiable to a corpse, bar for the fact he did not look as if tissues would've started to disintegrate. Peter let out a big, relived sigh, he had been worried that sharks or some other fish could've taken a fancy to him down there. But there was no sign of any harm that came to him, apart from his blue colour and water pouring out of all his orifices. "How long do you thing it would take for him to regenerate?" He addressed his more knowledgeable companion on the matter.

Claire crouched by the body, taking stock of his condition matter of factly by touching his skin and looking at his fingernails, not unlike how the paramedic would've dealt with a victim of an emergency call out. She rested her hand briefly on his chest before looking up with an apologetic expression, "I'm afraid it might take a while. I dunno. This is more extensive and lasting damage than I have ever suffered." She leaned backwards to sit out the long wait, inwardly worried a little, despite herself and logic. Were there any limits to her ability perhaps?

Peter sat down beside her, "we should be okay here for a little while. Not likely anyone would wonder along, but if they do, we could just leave him here in the bushes and distract them if necessary."

"What was it like? Your time behind the wall as he calls it? Having only him as the sole soul in your whole entire world? Only Sylar to talk to, relate to, have around? Having to make do with him?" Claire asked with obvious interest. It could be her one day, centuries from now, in a future universe where nobody would be alive round her, or at least nobody she could in any way relate to or share some memories that meant anything to her.

Peter shrugged, "well, I did kept away from him a lot at first. I dunno, it was weird. He let me avoid him for a while yeah, but only because that was my wish at the time. But as soon as he thought it'd be in my best interest for him to search me out, he came and fed me, watered me, kept me company, tried to explain the rules of our prison, helped me in my obviously futile efforts to bang at a wall that wasn't going to come down by force or entertained me and argued with me if he felt that was necessary. The whole five years he walked around on eggshells, trying to make the best of it for me as he regarded me being there his fault too. At the same time, I pretended he wasn't there, and if I wasn't attacking him verbally or physically, I ignored his needs at best. He wasn't looking for forgiveness, not exactly, he was well aware that wasn't possible, only a chance. A chance for everything to be okay somehow."

Claire nodded, "as he had been doing ever since you two got out of there as well. I could see the desperation and determination, but kept thinking he will mess up. Him being good, it can not last, can it?"

"He can not last alone, I know that much. And he can not last if you push him the way you have been either. Speaking of which.." He leaned forward and above the body to look for a pulse, a sign of breathing, of life. He found none. "Is there any obstacle to him regenerating you can think of?"

"There shouldn't be. If water is in his in his lungs, it should just come out the same way as a bullet would. The weak spot is mere millimetres wide. It shouldn't matter where it is with drowning."

Peter scrutinised the unconscious man once more. He'd previously placed Sylar in the recovery position, an automatic reaction from a paramedic, so he had to look really close and lift the taller man's chin up a little to try to determine whether water was dripping out his mouth. Still, it was hard to say, he was soaked through and through. "Any suggestions on speeding up the process? There are park rangers you know, and we shouldn't even be in this part of the reserve."

"If you had a syringe, we could shoot him up with my blood," Claire offered.

"Always, I always do," Peter smiled, opening his rucksack to reveal a small first aid box. He was hoping his niece would agree to her blood being used, but it was an idea that had to come from her as far as he was concerned. Peter already had quite a lot of proof that Claire cared about what happened to Sylar for one reason or another, but her offer further accentuated it. She was offering willingly and not because she had no choice under the circumstances. The fact filled him with hope for the future, that they'd not have to contend with a flipped out, power crazy Sylar later if Claire was on their side. It could hardly escape anyone that it was her, whose affection and understanding the New Yorker was really looking for most of all.

The paramedic expertly found both their veins quickly and it wasn't long before Sylar started shaking, coughing and spluttering as a result. "It's me, Peter and Claire, take your time regaining your strength," the Petrelli winced as the regeneration didn't seem like a pretty sight this time. They could only watch helpless while the ability collector wheezed and spat, struggling to get every drop of water out of his lungs.

It took the best part of five minutes before Sylar could sit up and attempt talking, "what happened?"

"What happened?" Peter repeated and tapped him on the shoulder in a genial manner, "you're asking? Given me the hardest paramedic job ever in terms of organizing the logistics to fit the ability!"

Sylar blinked at him a little confused. His brain was still quite sluggish after the lengthy haze that clouded it and he didn't even try to make sense of what was said to him. He buried his forehead into a palm instead and grunted.

"Are you all right?" Claire asked sheepishly, wincing while not sure whether to look at him or avert her gaze. It has been like that with Sylar for a while now. He did not deserve her previously customary stern and mocking glare, but she couldn't quite give into looking at him with compassion like you would at another human being just yet. All the same, she felt responsible for his current state. "Did anybody attack you?" She asked hopefully. Then it wasn't her responsibility he ended up at the bottom of the sea. How could she consider herself so high and mighty and moral in a superior way like she intended to be if she made such mistakes and inflicted intentional harm on Sylar or otherwise? As he'd once said, it wasn't that hard to become a monster, the limits were blurry.

The recently revived man shook his head however, "I dunno. I don't think so. I was flying to the devastated regions and I was thinking I could maybe sleep mid flight? Perhaps not such a good idea."

Peter sighed, "you would've noticed when you hit the water, surely."

"I think I must've more like passed out," Sylar admitted, "I'm sorry if I've caused any trouble," he said self consciously and looked around himself for clues. He gathered some strength to stand, "how long have I been out? We'd better fly on and help out with the rescue efforts."

"What are you sorry about?" Peter growled somewhat annoyed. Sylar's habit of asking for forgiveness was even more annoying when he had nothing to apologise for.

"I'm sorry Sylar," Claire sounded as if she would've not heard the talk about the topic of apologising at all, "but it has been weeks since you went down."

"Because it has been a bit of a logistical nightmare getting here in many different ways," Peter explained, "we have rented hotel rooms for three people though, you can rest there. The car's a good couple of miles unfortunately.." He went to offer his arm to Sylar for support, "do you think you can manage? Or I could just take flight from you, now that you're here."

The taller, but hunched man nodded, grunting in his efforts to get himself together, "you should. I don't feel so great."

The light signifying the ability transfer took place and Peter stepped closer to get a better hold of his friend, but Sylar gave him a little shove, "you might wanna stay away..." He managed before landing on his hands again and vomiting in obvious discomfort.

"It's all right. There'll be a lot of sea water in there," Peter comforted nevertheless, putting a palm on Sylar's back. Claire looked away uncomfortable.. It wasn't the sight, but having to watch another person suffer, not to mention it being indirectly her fault. Or more than indirectly actually.

The ailing man dropped to his side and a bit further from his mess, still clutching his midsection and Claire had to share a worried glance with her uncle. Sylar didn't complain though, nor accuse, "I'm sorry," those words came again, "I just need a little time."

"If you're still sick, something that doesn't belong there is still in your system," the blond was trying to make some sense of it all.

"A lot more water I'm afraid," Sylar rubbed his stomach. He was wishing he could get rid of it, but it didn't seem to be happening. He knew regenerating took a lot longer than it probably should've, only he had to take into account his previous tiredness level now, something that by the way he still felt.

"Don't rush yourself. That only makes the process longer," Claire offered expertly, "Peter, I can't see anyone coming right now," she pleaded watching as Sylar attempted to sit up again, rigidly holding onto his belly and not letting go. Then not waiting for the others' response, she slid onto her knees next to Sylar, "just lie down for a while. Put your head onto my lap and don't move till the sickness lets off," she ordered in the resolute manner he had been used to from her, the message and her state of mind completely different though.

Sylar didn't feel well enough to argue, not even contemplate the meaning behind her words. It was only Peter who looked on with a deep sense of peace. Claire got there, she was where he wanted her to be. Not forgiving, not forgetting, not giving up on a getting even, yet allowing for a different future.

"I think we'll need a holiday after all this," she looked up to Peter, "and I know just the place," she smiled jestingly, "it's not far from here".

Tbc


	7. Vacation Plans

just a little tide over chapter

Chapter 7: Vacation Plans

"Should we take sun tan lotion or should we not?" Claire mused with the item in hand, "its not as if either of us could get sunburn, or even a decent tan!" She grumbled, "I'll always have to use fake tan as we can't change!" She frowned, "but on the other hand, if we don't take hats and towels and sun screen we are going to look out of place," she addressed a perplexed Sylar at their hotel room where he had spent most of the last forty eight hours sleeping.

"I think we should if you're asking me.." Sylar regarded her curiously. It was strange her asking his opinion, even if on such a trivial matter. He was looking fazed out, with a tiny hope flickering in him that the young woman would let him rub the cream onto her back? Maybe? Just maybe? For appearances sakes of course. "But I haven't been on many of those sun-sea-sand holidays. I'm not really a fan," he shrugged.

"How about the other S? The subtype, the sun sea sex holidays?" Claire peeped as if it would've been the most natural question in the world. But because according to her own established rules of their new, redefined relationship she had to know everything about him.

"Uhm, no.." He shook his head somewhat amused. She had always been frank with him and everyone if she could as a matter of fact, but some questions were a little more unusual than others. "I mean..I mean, of course I'm interested in that latter part," he said quickly, realizing there could be misunderstandings about how she interpreted his answer regarding sex.

Claire repressed a laugh at the blush he was trying to conceal. It had always been extremely easy to wind Sylar up in one way or another, but a lot more fun ever since there was no danger of him going on a killing fit as a result. "Then why do you insist on shorts? Most people wear speedos out there," she threw the item in question at him. With him resting for the last couple of days, it was her who had purchased a multitude of leisure items for him on the resort. "Would you put them on already? I'd like to make a start on my dream vacation."

"With me?" Sylar shook his head, "why don't you go ahead? I have plenty of things to sort out in my head and I can do that right here in the bed."

"You still tired?" Claire inquired casually, concealing that absurd worry she had for him. Did her conscience need to be bothered with her former boogeyman of all people?

"No," Sylar assured her, "its just that..lying out sunbathing, its such a normal thing to do."

"Time you started somewhere with the normal behaviour," Claire commented, "and to be honest, its time I started too."

"Peter had the right idea," he complained, picking up the garment he was given reluctantly, "escaped just in time."

"I think he did need to go back to work if he wanted to keep down the job. We had a swim in the ocean together though beforehand. I was thinking you'd pass on that, since with your whole water overdose experience, but you're right, we should not let Peter get away with it so easily the next time."

"There's a next time we are holidaying together?" Sylar perked up. It was hard to believe he would be allowed to be himself with her and it had taken him a while to get his confidence back.

"That depends on how we do together on this one," she allowed, "I'll turn away while you change," she sat on her bed, facing away from him idly checking her mobile. Her make up set was right next to it too, in her bag, so she fiddled with that as well while waiting till it froze in her hand at the moment she realized she could see his reflection in the tiny mirror in the box. Her lips parted in amazement at her own impishness, but she wouldn't take her eyes off him. With Sylar partially turned away as well, it was only his bare backside she could see clearly, with an occasional peeking out of a tip of something long and smooth that had drawn her attention in the first place.

Claire waited till he finished his preparations without moving. She was worried she might give herself away if she suddenly hid the object in her hand. She had disregarded the fact though how observant Sylar usually was. "The speedos you bought are a little small, but I guess I don't mind," he said causally as if he would've been commenting on the weather. He wasn't exactly sure about what she was playing at, but the game was on as far as he was concerned.

Tbc


	8. Timelessness

Chapter 8: Timelessness

As far as eternity was concerned, it was going to be a hard nut. They have only spent a week of idle afternoons on the beach, with indulgent and leisurely dinners and lazy mornings while they read at least three books each they weren't even really interested in. It was a placating, passive existence. They did not as much ignore each other, but went along side by side, without giving the relationship any depth. Neither of them could be sure where they were standing, or where they were heading, bewildered with the sudden ease they felt when around one another.

Claire flipped through some more pages of the newest Vampire Diaries, trying to find out if it would ever get to the exciting bits. Giving up, she let the book fall out of her hands, "the holiday sounded like a good idea at first, but I can't spend an eternity like this!"

Sylar earmarked his page in his Hitchens book before answering, "I was hoping you would say that. Not that I'm not enjoying your company, but there's gotta be more to life than this. Not to mention its starting to eerily resemble how we lived with Peter behind the wall."

The blonde shuddered in dread. From what she had heard of their five years together from both Peter and Sylar, it could well be how the future looked like for immortals at least. It fuelled a feeling of compassion and being able to relate to the only person in the world who would share her fate and the Earth's future. "We'll certainly have enough time for that later," she agreed, "and I think we will certainly have more than enough to spend time with each other at some other point."

Sylar averted his eyes, not being completely able to keep his face from falling and give himself away, what's more, if it wasn't clear before, Claire could be certain his imagined version of the future was a lot less bleak with her in it than without her. "We should split and explore the world. Our lives are entwined now, no matter what we do," she added quickly, compelled to ease the building alarm and the ache that followed it in his eyes, "we will meet one day and I'm sure we'll share something unique that can keep us together for whatever venture the future holds for us. And for that certainty, I would like to make sure I can look forward to spending a part of eternity with the right person before we part just now."

"How would you do that?" Sylar was looking at her confused. First her talk sounded like her normal rejection of him, but now he wasn't so sure.

"You must've noticed how I've tried and tested you in every way and I have to admit the results are better than I could've ever imagined," she gave, although finding it hard to actually compliment him.

"I'm glad you think so," her confused conversation partner said warily, having no clue as to where this was going.

"But we haven't really got to know each other so far. Not completely," her eyes flew up to catch Sylar's in an open gesture of honesty.

"So what now? More tests? Experiments?" He frowned suspiciously. Did maybe the apple not fall far that from the tree as far as Claire and Noah was concerned?

"You have seen inside me, something that should have been very intimate, personal, private and confidential. Its only fair I get my chance."

Sylar's heart skipped a beat in total bewilderment, "what? You want to see inside my skull?" He couldn't help, but stare at her incredulously.

Claire gave him the most intense gaze, as if startled by that thought, "one track mind much?" She started giggling, "no silly. There are other kinds of intimate!" She rose only to flop down beside him on his bed.

"In…timate?" Sylar repeated, almost stuttering. His head felt light and dizzy. This'd better not be some kinda joke. "Do you suggest that maybe we should try together to…uhm…" He mumbled, but didn't finish in case he misunderstood, but his blush gave him away.

"Yes," Claire answered the unspoken question, slowly, a little awkwardly setting a hand on his chest, inching towards the buttons on his shirt as he was laying against the headboard. "Perhaps the ultimate test if you like. You want me to trust you, well, I will be able to trust you if I can trust you in bed."

Sylar's lips opened, his insides frozen in shock. His stomach was twisted in knots. This seemed to be more like pressure and responsibility than anything that she'd ever asked of him. What if he could not satisfy her the way she wanted? "Relax," Claire coaxed, I'm not gonna eat you."

The most powerful man in the world watched immobilized with a mixture of panic and hope as Claire fumbled with his buttons. He would not dare to give her a hand, touch her in any way. Not yet. Lately he had gotten into the habit of letting his telekinesis do such things instead of bothering with his hands, he was usually busy doing other things. But he'd surely not have the courage to use powers around her without it being absolutely necessary, nothing that could provoke her, raise any bad feelings or memories in her. So he just shifted uncomfortably.

Claire was taking her time, more out of intent, than not. She had seen him on the beach half naked many times and when she had been taking care of him while he was weak, undressing him felt different and more intimate though. Running her hands over his chest the cheerleading beauty could feel his heart pounding and took pleasure in the fact she had certainly confused and wound him up. That sense of enjoyment soon turned to a different kind of perceptive, stirring awareness. His broad, white chest, strong shoulders, soft skin, the fine hairs of a pleasure trail..she took everything in and suddenly found her hormones raging with need, not at all very unusual for a young woman of her age and position. Damn, you look delicious, she found herself thinking. She finally slid his shirt off of him, then brushed against the dark hairs of the trail leading into his trousers, stirring not just pubic hair, but underneath as well, giving him a decent hard on. Definitely her favourite and most alluring part of him, she decided.

Sylar felt her nails dig into his skin when the blonde grabbed his lower abdomen on impulse, driven by a sudden manifestation of a want that's been harbouring and growing inside her. His stomach muscles contracted at the tease and he took in a sharp breath.

Captivated, he could not utter a word while her hand moved in a downward motion and her arm pressed against the now noticeable bulge in his trousers. Slowly, but spontaneously he leant forward, his face closing up to hers. Should he kiss her? Given her reaction to his previous attempts he decided for dropping his mouth on her chest instead, in between her breasts where she never really hid completely behind clothing unless it was very cold.

Her response befuddled him once more, he felt Claire's nails scratching his belly roughly and as forcefully as the young blond could manage and he found himself inhaling sharply for an entirely different reason than before.

"No." Claire looked him in the eyes, "no touching or kissing for you. You gotta let me do a little revenge on you in some way or another," she explained her actions and pushed him back against the headboard again.

Her flat palms brushed against his chest once more in a gentler manner, letting him know she wanted to continue with her game. "Close your eyes," she commanded. Without more ado a wet and seemingly talented tongue lapped at the gashes she caused on his skin before they could heal over, initiating a smarting sensation in the wound that made his Adam's apple bounce and his nipples stiffen. What kind of a punishment this could be if he enjoyed it so much? Or was he not supposed to? Should he try to restrain himself?

Claire felt driven and intoxicated with power. All the times he had been holding her down and against walls with his abilities and she hadn't realized she had the power over him to hold him still without anything superhuman at all. So she splayed her hands on his chest, pressing him down and climbed over him to become conscious of the fact that something very distracting was starting to take shape and press into her thighs under the miniskirt. She couldn't help it, the blonde had to lick her lips. His cock was hardening brutally quick and she found herself automatically leaning into it, squeezing it and rubbing it with her body. Her breathing deepened, it became shaky and all the while he did or had to do nothing to make her panties wet. It just happened.

She had to scold herself for such loss of control, she couldn't believe it. Why did she want Sylar so much? It cannot be only to prove to herself she no longer feared him. The student brought a hand down to the place in query and felt the bulge through his  
trousers, inch by inch, along its length and Claire fleetingly wondered if she had been missing out on something.

She silenced her own musings with his exploring mouth, a tongue hot, eager, hungry and mating. Unaware of her own actions, she drew sharp intakes of breath through her nose, intent on keeping him drawn to her for one more uncomplicated moment without consequences or judgements, simply taking pleasure in the occasion.

He had the same idea, especially since she had been talking about distancing herself from him in the future previously. Placing a hand on her back despite her warnings earlier and despite his own fears of spooking her with his abilities, he instinctively pulled her closer at the same time quickly and expertly rid them of their otherwise scarce remaining garments with a single wave of fingers, each focussed in the direction of a separate clothing item as if he would've practiced such things in the past, which he hadn't much, apart from a few times with Elle.

Her lips departed his as she gasped with a hint of distrust, "I said let me handle you," she reminded him. She had always had enough individuality and independence in her not to let herself be controlled and this was a situation where she needed that the most, with him. The way he was lying on his back with her legs round his stomach, it immediately occurred to her how she could take control of the situation by seizing his cock as she spoke and squeezing, a little harder than it would've been necessary if their exchange would've been purely sexual.

A gasp escaped him at first, her harsh actions sending pain and desire through him. He would not complain about his manhood being played with though, but had to draw a quick breath every time her warm palm squeezed and exhale quickly when her hand moved a little bit. It took all his self control not to thrust into her touch, but he knew she would've not appreciated him making another move. He shivered toothless instead, crazy with want.

Claire watched him for a reaction for a while as she now lazily and playfully rolled his cock between her fingers and massaged his balls. There was no danger coming from his direction, other than the haze of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn't believe how soft the tip of his solid shaft seemed, moulding under her thumb like silk. A musky scent of sex engulfed her nostrils and she could not dodge that haze of passion anymore.

As before, he had to do nothing to excite her, nothing for her to want to go further. She  
was lost in the sensation of delving into the forbidden fruit, dominance itself for its own sake and the exploration of a secret that lay beyond the dangerous and supercilious façade that Sylar had insisted upon in the past. At the moment, it was the fleshy part of the secret that interested her the most and the softness of those deep brown eyes that drank her up with a gentleness and adoration she would have also not expected from him.

With yet another mischief in mind, she did not give him any warning. She raised herself and then slammed down, his twitching length guided it into her inpatient and pulsating folds with precision before her hands let go of it. He shuddered, silenced to a mindless thought-numb by the sensation, yet his buttocks lifted as if by themselves and his muscular hips gave him the means to shoot powerfully deep inside her.

Claire came down even harder on his stiff cock, driven by both her enthusiasm and the knowledge that she was together with the only other person in the world who would know how her body worked and where her limits were. Pushing away with her palms splayed against his chest, the beauty withdrew herself completely off his full length before filling herself with his manhood again, making it quiver with pleasure all the way down to his sacks and his lower stomach explode with a desire that physically hurt. He had to endure the yearning for Claire for years after all, counting the ones behind the wall or not.

Her behaviour wasn't to please him however, she had no interest in impressing  
her tormentor of the past, it was to satisfy herself in the best way she knew it would, both physically and an emotional satisfaction. A caress would hardly ever be enough to the velvety, strong walls of her vagina, so the unbreakable girl rode him, muscles clenching in unconscious desperation to milk his cream. It was certainly enough to melt his brain right there and then. He was right there with her, making unintelligible noises of rapture he would've not thought himself capable of before shooting his hot seed inside her. Shaking, the blonde lowered herself on him, her head on his shoulder, waiting for her energy to come back. No, no ordinary humans could cope with such ferocious love making.

"Everything ok?" Sylar asked, meaning her silence. She certainly didn't look like  
she was regretting the experience, but given their history and his inner sense of self's, Gabriel's self confidence, he could never be sure. The shy lover pulled out of her shifting and wincing. There was still an ache in his groins where she had slammed down on him and he would've bet her back side would be red and sore as well for a moment.

"Oh, yeah," Claire breathed, still pretty much out of air and stroking his side in the afterglow. She could half understand Sylar now, being in control of power wasn't half bad. "You know I've been thinking.."

"When?" Her unlikely lover interrupted, his confidence a lot higher now she had allowed him to enter her body willingly, "in between strokes?"

He got a teasing little punch to his side for that, "tell me one thing. Is it a split personality you have? Will we see the killer Sylar again?"

"Killer Sylar couldn't allow himself certain thoughts or feelings. If he would've let those in, he would've not only been incapable of what he thought was necessary for his survival, but guilty and miserable as well. He had to turn it all off. But he was missing out on a lot of things and mainly something important that he finally realised he could not do without."

"Love." Claire finished the thought, remembering another conversation they once had.

"Yes, Claire. Cause I love. I've always loved you and I always will," Sylar admitted, knowing that she will not be surprised. He didn't exactly make a secret out of it even when he was the killer he wanted to forget existed.

The love of his life nodded thoughtfully. It wasn't that she would feel the need to reciprocate the confession, or even the sentiment, or that she would want to follow up on what he could promise or give her. Perhaps in another lifetime. But she shrugged as an answer, "I can live with that."

The End.


End file.
